


Forbidden Fruit

by Eressë (eresse21)



Series: Greenleaf and Imladris [7]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eresse21/pseuds/Eress%C3%AB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old friend of Legolas's develops a forbidden passion and in the process triggers confusion, heartbreak and tragedy. Seventh story in a series chronicling the millennia-spanning relationship of Legolas and Elrohir from the moment they meet beneath the eaves of Greenwood the Great to the years of the War of the Ring and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _The characters belong to the wizard of storytelling himself, JRR Tolkien and/or his estate. No offense is intended or profit made in my use of them._
> 
> When I first wrote this series, I used the word ‘duality’ in lieu of the much too modern sounding term ‘bisexuality’. I felt it was more in keeping with the manner of speech of Middle-earth. I’ve since noticed the use of the word in various LotR slash stories. The authors of said stories may or may not have borrowed the term from G&I - I have no problem with that. But I do want to make it clear that it is by no means canonical and neither is the explanation in this chapter regarding same-sex relationships among the Firstborn. The latter is strictly a product of my imagination and only suggests the possible whys and wherefores of Elven bisexuality if it existed in the amazing world J.R.R. Tolkien created.

Mirkwood, _ethuil_ T.A. 1300 - _laer_ T.A. 1305

Sirgon looked about him with nostalgia and curiosity. It had been centuries since he’d last set foot in the Woodland Realm, a millennium since he’d beheld the halls of Thranduil. Yet it was like coming home. He had never truly forgotten Greenwood the Great.

His father, Beldoron, had been a trusted counsellor and good friend of the king and his sire before him in that time past. He’d been one of a handful of Wood-elves who had travelled to the realm of Lothlórien shortly before the Last Alliance of Elves and Men was formed, bearing assurances of aid from Oropher and Thranduil to their kinsman, Celeborn. For though Thranduil’s father, Oropher, had vowed never to have anything to do with any of the Noldor, Celeborn’s wife, Galadriel, included, his son had been wise and prudent enough not to completely severe ties with his cousin. Dark times necessitated putting aside rancor and presenting a united front to Middle-earth’s latest bane and Thranduil had acted accordingly. Eventually, Oropher had come to agree that the alliance was necessary though, with predictable pride, he refused to let their forces march under Gil-galad’s banner. Later events proved Thranduil’s caution correct but, unfortunately, also aggravated the prevailing distrust he had always harbored towards the Noldor. 

But all that was still in the future when Beldoron made that sojourn to the Golden Wood. It was during this visit that he had met his wife, a Silvan Elf in the service of Galadriel. Beldoron had fallen in love with her and, years later, having survived Oropher’s impulsive, ill-fated charge in Mordor, he returned to Lórien, secured her hand in marriage and brought her back to Eryn Galen. She had eventually borne him a son and for several years lived with her husband contentedly enough under the eaves of Greenwood. 

But little more than a decade after the alliance between Eryn Galen and Rivendell had been forged, the long dormant yearning of Sirgon’s mother for the Golden Wood reawakened. She became listless, almost ill, a thing unheard of among the Firstborn. Realizing the cause and extent of her distress, Beldoron had sought his king’s permission and removed his family to Lothlórien.

That had been a great shock to Sirgon who had only been in his seventh decade of life. Though lawfully in his majority, he was still young and sheltered by any standard; an Elfling in all but age. Lothlórien was altogether different from Eryn Galen, at once less vast yet more remote. It was with a heavy heart that he’d followed his parents south, leaving behind all that he had known. Old friends, familiar haunts, but most of all… Legolas.

He had virtually grown up at court because of his father’s position. That had thrown him into close proximity with Thranduil’s children, particularly his youngest son to whom he was closest in age. In the way of all children, whether Elf, Man or other Free Folk, they became playmates and later good friends. Two others only did Legolas later account closer to himself than Sirgon.

These were the twin sons of Elrond of Rivendell, Elladan and Elrohir. Ever did the brothers have a close bond with the youngest prince of the Woodland Realm since their first acquaintance, much to the despair of their respective families. For the three together were a formidable combination at thinking up mischief and wreaking mayhem. Sirgon had only been peripherally involved in their adventures, his father maintaining that he would not offend his king by having his son add to the already hair-raising situations the prince and his friends habitually got themselves into. 

Sirgon’s family had departed for Lothlórien several years after that momentous first meeting between Thranduil’s children and Elrond’s twins. By then a steadfast friendship had already been established between the youngest prince and the brethren, a friendship that had put to rest any residual rancor and distrust between Eryn Galen’s Sindarin king and Rivendell’s Eldarin lord whose Noldorin connections had been at the heart of the original unease between the two realms.

Sirgon had encountered the brothers here and then during his days in Lothlórien when they would come to visit their mother’s parents, the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. But he’d never again seen Legolas for none of the royal family of the Woodland Realm had ever ventured there.

He heard tales of the comings and goings between Eryn Galen and Imladris. Had often wished he could be a continuing part of that story. But it was not until late that he’d gotten his wish and that had come of a tragedy. 

His mother had accompanied Celeborn’s daughter, Celebrían, who was Lord Elrond’s wife, to Rivendell after one of the lady’s visits to her parents’ realm. On the way back, the party of Lórien Elves had been ambushed by orcs. There had been one casualty. Sirgon’s mother. With nothing to hold him to Lothlórien any longer, Beldoron had decided to return to the north with his son. 

Now Sirgon was back where it all started. Where he had grown up and known happiness. Lothlórien was beautiful and enchanting but he was a simple Greenwood Elf at heart. Living in such rarified environs had not been to his taste and he’d never felt himself a Lórien Elf, not even after so many centuries of life there.

He looked to where his father sat with the King, the two exchanging pleasantries and news. The great hall was relatively empty at this time of day and Sirgon stayed quietly by himself near the entrance. He wondered where Legolas was and what he was doing. And he wondered if his old friend would still remember him.

“Sirgon!”

The voice that uttered his name was unfamiliar and Sirgon turned to see who had addressed him. His mouth dropped open at the vision that greeted him.

He’d never seen a more comely Elf, not even in Lothlórien. Though dressed in the simple green and brown of a Mirkwood Elf and obviously lately come from the hunt, the Edhel carried himself with a regal grace reminiscent of Thranduil himself. His pale gold hair, braided in the style of the northern Wood-elves, hung below his shoulders. Dark blue eyes glittered warmly and the finely wrought lips were curved into a small smile. 

“What? Do you not know me?” the fair-haired Elf remarked with an amused glint in his eyes. “Your memory has grown feeble, Sirgon.” 

Sirgon gasped in sudden recognition and rose to his feet. “Legolas?” he managed to utter. He could not believe his eyes. When he’d left, the prince had just lately come to his majority, fair as the Elves are, but to Sirgon’s own boyish eyes, nothing extraordinary. One could not say the same of the Elven prince who now stood before him.

‘When did he grow to be so beautiful?’ Sirgon thought in wonder. He had no more time to think when Legolas stepped forward and pulled him into a welcoming embrace. His own arms automatically enclosing the prince, Sirgon suddenly felt shaken. Even this brief contact was disturbing, he did not know why. 

The prince stepped back with a grin. “How are you, old friend?” he asked. 

“Well enough, _hîr nîn_ ,” Sirgon answered, suddenly remembering his manners. “But I have missed the green wood greatly.”

“My lord?” Legolas raised one golden eyebrow. “Since when have you become so formal with me? It was ever Legolas when we were growing up as I recall.”

Sirgon blushed. “I was not certain of my standing with you after all this time,” he replied honestly.

Legolas shook his head. “Old friends can dispense with formalities. Come, tell me what you will about Lothlórien.”

He took Sirgon by the arm and led him to his chamber. There they passed several hours reminiscing about days gone by and exchanging stories of the years they had spent apart.

oOoOoOo

Sirgon easily slipped back into his former life. In some ways it was almost as if he had never left for he’d never forgotten the ways and wiles of a Wood-elf. After all, Lothlórien, too, was a woodland realm. But in other ways, he knew there had been changes. There were events in Greenwood that he knew little or nothing about. Things that had come to pass while he had lived in the Golden Wood.

Evil had marred the great forest. Darkness had come upon the once beloved woods with the rise of Dol Guldur in its southwestern reach. The great spiders were rapidly proliferating, orcs frequently came to the very borders of the forest itself and men of ill repute had become so bold as to dare the Wood-elves’ wrath and arrows as they sought the reputed wealth of the Elvenking. Just such an incident had claimed the life of Legolas’ mother nearly three hundred years ago. 

Sirgon had left Eryn Galen, Greenwood the Great, and returned to Taur e-Ndaedelos, Forest of Great Fear, known in the Common Tongue as Mirkwood. Consequently, there were times when he felt left out, especially when those around him spoke of incidents or issues largely foreign to him. 

Loneliness might have claimed him on these occasions if not for Legolas. Neither Melthoron nor Brethildor had the inclination to spend much time with him and Nimeithel naturally preferred the company of her maiden friends. And his old playmates, Heledir and Mithrael, were now tied to their own families and responsibilities and could not be with him as often as of old. But the youngest prince slowly drew him into the mainstream of Mirkwood court life. He was frequently there to keep him company, always including him in hunting trips, scouting expeditions and pleasure rides through the forest. It seemed that seldom a day passed that Sirgon did not spend at his friend’s side. He had never been so contented or happy in his whole life. 

*****************************************  
Glossary:  
ethuil – Sindarin for late spring  
laer – Sindarin for summer

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Sirgon seems familiar, it’s because he appeared in _Meldir: At First Sight_ as one of Legolas’s childhood friends.


	2. Chapter 2

It was nearly five years before the rhythm of his life was broken once more. Change descended on the Woodland Realm. Change in the forms of the sons of Elrond.

The brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, rode into Mirkwood in the fifth summer after Sirgon’s return. Sirgon watched curiously from the great stone doors of the royal halls as the party of Rivendell Elves approached. He studied the brothers with interest. They, too, had changed, he realized. Their lineage shone through even more distinctly now that they were grown to full maturity. Fair of face and noble of carriage were the twin lords of Imladris.

Hardly had they brought their steeds to a stop when they swiftly dismounted. Sirgon’s attention was drawn to Legolas as the prince moved forward to welcome the new arrivals. It was then that he was struck by the difference in the prince’s demeanor with them.

As soon as he reached them, the two Elvenlords each drew him into a heartfelt embrace. And then Sirgon saw the prince’s smile. He was beaming widely, his eyes sparkling with mirth. And when he laughed at some amusing remark Elladan uttered, it occurred to Sirgon that he’d never seen Legolas thus with any friend in the five years since his return to the Woodland Realm.

His face was transformed. He had dropped his customary restraint and was as open and merry as any Wood-elf under Thranduil’s rule. As he led the twins into his father’s halls, he fondly linked arms with them. Sirgon followed them, forgotten for the moment. The Elf felt a twinge of envy as he listened to their conversation. 

“It has been long since your last visit, _gwedyr nîn_ ”—my sworn brothers—Sirgon heard Legolas say.

“Too long,” Elladan agreed. “But you have not graced Imladris with your presence either for many a year.”

“Aye, that is true, but my duties have kept me here. Dol Guldur’s influence has been spreading. We have been hard-pressed to protect our borders.”

“We have had news of that from Mithrandir,” Elrohir said. “‘Tis good that things have not been so evil this year. ‘Twas not so difficult getting over the mountains.”

“Well, even had it been, we still would have come,” Elladan smiled. “Friendship is worth risking much for.”

“That is heartwarming to hear,” Legolas responded. “Perhaps I shall be able to get away for a spell and visit Imladris again.” He suddenly stopped, pulling the brothers back with him. “Ah, I had forgotten. There is someone here you will wish to see.” He turned of a sudden, making Sirgon start. “I believe you had the opportunity to meet Sirgon during your sojourns in Lothlórien?”

The twins’ eyes widened at first sight of the lately returned Elf then both grinned warmly. “Sirgon! So you have indeed returned to Mirkwood,” Elrohir said, going forward to grasp the other’s hand in welcome.

Sirgon shyly nodded. He was not all that comfortable with Elrond’s sons. He was always too conscious of their exalted lineage. He tried to smile a little more warmly as Elladan, too, greeted him with friendliness.

“You did not spend much time with us in the Golden Wood,” the older twin told him. “Mayhap you will feel more at ease with us now that you are home. I dare say you were never truly content in Lórien.”

Sirgon was surprised at Elladan’s perceptiveness. He had not expected that either twin had guessed the reason behind his past reticence or sensed his longing to return to the Woodland Realm. 

“Lothlórien is beautiful and enchanting,” he finally managed to say. “But I never stopped yearning for Greenwood.”

“Even with the shadow upon it?” Elladan queried.

“It is still home to me,” Sirgon replied.

“Yet you lived far longer in Lórien than you ever did here,” Elrohir remarked. 

“‘Twas my mother’s home. I never quite felt that I belonged there,” Sirgon said, feeling some annoyance at the other Elf’s words. Why, he could not explain.

“Mayhap you missed your friends,” Elrohir said gently. “All the times we saw you in the Golden Wood, you always seemed to be by yourself.” He grinned at Legolas suddenly. “Surrounded by some of the most beauteous Elf-maids in Middle-earth and what does he do? Hie off into the trees to sing by himself!”

Sirgon flushed. So the twins had also marked his solitude. Did nothing escape their eyes? Legolas was grinning as well.

“That explains something,” he said. “I have been trying to get him to pay heed to the fair ones of Mirkwood to no avail. But if he, as you say, did not notice the maidens of Lórien, I now see why my efforts failed.” The brothers chuckled in return.

Sirgon felt his stomach turn. For some unfathomable reason, he was disturbed by the prince’s words. And he felt less at ease than ever seeing the others’ amusement. He knew they were not laughing at him yet he could not stop himself from feeling hurt. And it did not help matters when Legolas linked arms with them once more as they proceeded deeper into the halls of the palace.

They had begun to speak of things they’d experienced together, adventures they’d shared, matters he had no knowledge of. Here and then their laughter punctuated the quiet of the corridors. And again Sirgon noted Legolas’s demeanor. Unrestrained, merry, openly affectionate with the twins. 

Logic told Sirgon that this should not surprise him. Elladan and Elrohir were the sons of Elrond, equals of the youngest prince of Northern Mirkwood whether in comeliness, heritage or power. With them Legolas had no need to maintain his reserve or guard his tongue. Logic told Sirgon that this was so. But logic could not still the sudden fit of jealousy that smote his heart.

Life in Mirkwood soon took a livelier turn as the twins made their presence well known. Maturity had not robbed them of their ebullience or wicked wit, which seemed to find expression each time they came to the green wood for a visit. It was quite befuddling considering what was known of their demeanor in Rivendell. Back home, they were the most dignified and dutiful of warrior princes, fiercely protective of the folk, Elven and otherwise, who looked to their family for guidance or safety, relentless in their dedication to maintaining the well-being and security of their valley realm and only rarely given to the pranks they had once been so famous for in their long-ago early youth. It was as if the necessary repression of their lively spirits in Rivendell impelled them to give said spirits full vent whenever they could throw off the encumbrances of their princely roles. 

Thranduil was oft seen to roll his eyes in very unkingly fashion as many a tale reached his ears regarding the activities of his son and his noble guests. Nightfall would invariably herald one version or another of a growled, “What have I done that the Peredhel saw fit to foist his twin terrors upon me?” And on occasion he was heard to remark with exasperation, “Thank the Valar Legolas has no twin! I should pass sooner to Aman if there were two of him to plague me. For the life of me, I cannot fathom how Elrond and Celebrían have managed to keep Imladris from falling apart with those two around.”

To Sirgon though, it was not the brethren’s predilection for mischief that soured his outlook toward them. It was their closeness to Legolas that kindled his dislike. Until their coming he had felt secure in the kindness his friend had shown him. Had admittedly felt some pride in the fact that Legolas seemed to spend more time with him than any of the other friends such as Mithrael and Heledir who had lived out their whole lives within his circle of influence.

Now he understood how naïve he had been. There was no comparing his friendship with Legolas and that which the prince enjoyed with the Imladrin lords. Indeed, they were closer than friends; they were sworn brothers. Together they formed a triumvirate that was so complete there was no place for others to try and fit in, not even the prince’s own brothers. Sirgon felt the exclusion even when he was included in their activities.

He felt it most keenly during one hunting trip.

They travelled to the northernmost regions of Mirkwood, far from the glens of the great spiders that infested the south. After a successful day’s hunt they set up camp in a secure clearing rather than make the long trek home in the dark. For Mirkwood by day could be very dark indeed and the forest by night was all but a lightless place.

Sirgon observed Legolas as he sat cross-legged beside Elrohir before the campfire. Elladan, cleaning his knife, had settled himself nearby. While the meats roasted, wine and ale were passed around and the group soon relaxed into merriment. 

“I only wish it was not so dark and stuffy,” Elrohir was heard to complain. “You cannot even see the stars from down here.”

Legolas grinned. “Feeling a little hemmed in, my good Elf?”

“So would you had you been born and bred where the open sky is a constant and not a rare sight!” The raven-haired Elf shook his head. “I wonder that you do not feel the gloom about us. I have never got used to it.”

“We must cheer you up then,” Legolas said. “Stars we cannot offer you but music and song there is aplenty.”

Responding to the prince’s words, one of the Mirkwood Elves pulled out a flute and began to play it while another burst into a lively song. He was soon joined by others and the music of their fair voices filled the very air with enchantment. Before long, it was apparent that Elrohir’s spirits had lifted for he was seen to smile and utter a jest or two.

Sirgon had not joined in the singing, content as he was to simply watch and listen. It was then that his life changed forever. 

Just as the last song ended, a voice softly began another. The flutist swiftly took up the melody. Sirgon started when he realized to whom the voice belonged. It was Legolas.

Silence fell upon the group as they all turned to listen to their prince. Sirgon was entranced. He had never before heard Legolas sing alone. The sound of his clear melodious voice filled him with indescribable emotion. 

Of a sudden, as Legolas ended one verse, Elrohir joined in with another. The song turned magical. Soon Sirgon realized they were singing in counterpoint to each other. And they were doing so with an ease that evidenced long familiarity with one another. 

He felt his heart tighten. Here was the closeness he so longed for and could not be a part of. He drew his breath in sharply when a third voice joined in, adding yet another level of enchantment to the music. ‘Twas Elladan, slipping in as smoothly and easily as his brother had done. The feeling of envy grew within Sirgon’s chest.

They knew Legolas as well as he knew them, which was very well indeed. How often had they sung thusly together? How much time had they spent in each other’s company? From the look and sound of it, more time than Sirgon could bear.

When the song ended, there was much praise and applause. Sirgon noticed that Legolas beckoned to Elladan to join him and Elrohir. But not himself he noted with a pang. In the twins’ presence he had faded into the background. Legolas did not ignore him but he did not draw him into the intimacy of his relationship with the brothers either. 

Sirgon could not help feeling resentful of the Elves who had stolen the prince’s attention. He wished they would end their visit and depart from Mirkwood. He longed to settle once more into the comfortable rhythm of life where he was more often than not in Legolas’ company. So deep was he in his pensive thoughts he did not realize the meats were done until they began to pass it around along with bread and fruit. 

Sirgon watched as the younger twin leaned over to murmur something to the prince. Legolas burst out laughing. The sound made Sirgon swallow hard. 

Elladan looked suspiciously at his brother and friend and demanded to know what they had found amusing. When his twin responded, the Elf was seen to gasp in outrage. To the vast amusement of the others, the brothers plunged into a rapid exchange of caustic barbs and pointed observations. Sirgon, not yet quite used to their ways, was alarmed at first but a look at the mirth of the others soon told him that this was but another episode in the continuing saga of the Rivendell twins.

Legolas was certainly enjoying himself, Sirgon noted. His eyes were bright with joy and his smile lit up his entire countenance. Sirgon stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. Valar, he is even more beautiful than I first thought, he realized. It was at that moment that Legolas turned his head and looked in Sirgon’s direction.

Their eyes met. Sirgon held his breath as, in that brief moment, Legolas smiled at him, not with princely if gentle reserve as was his wont but with the same openness and merriment that he bestowed upon the twins. And then the moment ended and he turned back to his friends.

But Sirgon continued to stare. For him the spell was still strong. ‘What has happened to me?’ he wondered. He could not tear his eyes from the prince, found himself hungrily studying his every feature, the lines of his form, and the grace of his every movement. For the first time, something else stirred within him. As he recognized the feeling, his wonder changed to fear and the fear swiftly evolved into panic. 

‘I should not feel this way,’ he thought with dread. ‘I should not desire him!’ 

The twin’s combat of wits had ended in a draw. With a chuckle, Legolas relaxed and leaned back against Elladan who automatically curled a supporting arm around the prince’s shoulder. Elrohir pulled a strip of meat from his roast venison and offered it to Legolas. Instead of taking it with his fingers, the prince grinned and let his friend pop it into his mouth. 

Jealousy flared hot in Sirgon’s heart. The extent of their closeness wounded him. He found everything the brothers did to have hidden meaning and it irritated him no end. 

He was annoyed by the sight of Elladan’s arm wrapped so familiarly around Legolas’s shoulders; did not approve of the way Elrohir’s fingers lightly touched the prince’s lips as he fed him bits of roast meat and bread. He scowled as Elladan bent over to whisper into Legolas’s ear, his lips close to the other’s face, his words bringing the light of mischief into the prince’s azure eyes. And when Elrohir came up with some well-placed jibe at his brother, he felt his heart constrict as Legolas laughingly clapped his hand over the younger twin’s mouth lest another word war begin. 

Small observations they were yet they loomed overly large in his thoughts. He had discovered something about himself and he did not know what to do about it. 

He loved Legolas. Nay, that was not right. He, Sirgon, was _in love_ with the youngest prince of the Woodland Realm. That was why he was desperately jealous of the brethren. He had lost his heart to the most unlikely person of all. 

The question was, what was he to do about it? Indeed, what _could_ he do about it? 

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

The gardens behind the royal pavilion rang with shouts of encouragement and laughter. An impromptu archery contest had been set up amongst Elladan, Elrohir, Heledir, the warrior maid, Tathariel and a few others. Legolas had been sternly ordered to stay on the sidelines. 

“It is no contest when you compete,” Elladan pointed out. “You will only outstrip us all.”

“Nay, you rate my skill too highly,” Legolas protested. “There are far better archers than myself.”

“If there are, I do not see them here,” retorted Elladan. “We will be fair about this, _gwador_.”—sworn brother. “You will not compete!”

The Rivendell twins had then proceeded to belie their claims of lack of skill. By the end of the contest they had proven their mastery. True to form, they accepted the approbation of the spectators with many a mock bow, which only drew more applause and mirth.

From the windows of his study, Thranduil observed them with some relief. At least, they were not indulging in some stomach-churning prank this golden morn. Since their arrival, they had already pulled off more than he could swallow with grace. Any more and he would be hard pressed to maintain his dignity as a king. He gestured to his companion to join him at the window. Beldoron came up beside him.

“Your son is very much a part of their circle,” the king said indulgently. “That should gladden your heart.”

“Yes, majesty,” Beldoron replied. “It is good to see that he will not be alone when I depart.”

Thranduil sighed. “You are determined to leave for the Havens then?”

His counsellor turned sad eyes on him. "'Tis not the same since my wife left this life. I feel weary, sire, and long for some solace in the West. And mayhap we will be reunited soon should the Powers grant it.”

Thranduil nodded. “I understand. You are fortunate, my friend, that you have the liberty to go when you will. If I had a choice, I, too, would depart this lands and seek my wife in Eldamar.”

“Is Prince Melthoron not ready for the throne, _hîr nîn_?”—my lord—Beldoron queried. 

Thranduil sighed and shook his head. “Melthoron is too much my father’s grandson. Ill-tempered and full of pride,” the king said. “Brethildor is not much better. He is good-natured but cares little for the running of this kingdom. He is a warrior first and foremost.“ He glanced at his advisor and grimaced. “There are times I think it a pity that Legolas is not my firstborn and heir. He has grown in stature and wisdom and is beloved of the people.” He frowned suddenly. “I have spoken too freely,” he said. He wagged a finger at the other Elf. “I trust you will not divulge this to anyone, old friend.”

Beldoron smiled and said reassuringly, “Your sentiments are safe with me, _aran nîn_.”—my king. “I, too, worry about the welfare of this realm.” 

After the counsellor had taken his leave, the king turned to the window once more. He saw his youngest son now take up his knife to spar with Elrohir. Paternal pride filled him as he watched Legolas move with lethal grace and deadly skill. Parrying, thrusting, stroke and counterstroke. It was a joy to observe him and Elrohir as they matched each other. That was when he noticed Sirgon.

It was the intent stare of the young Elf that drew the king’s attention. A stare that focused on the prince with singular concentration. Thranduil frowned. There was something about the look in Sirgon’s eyes. Admiration there was, of course, and the encouragement of a friend. But what else was there?

He looked at the other spectators. They were mostly male but there were several Elf-women scattered among them. Naturally, they were not so much interested in the match as they were in the combatants. Adoring eyes alighted on either the golden-maned prince or the raven-haired lord. And a few gazed upon them with more than just adoration. Desire was in their eyes either for one or the other. 

That was when it struck Thranduil. It was not unlike what he had seen in Sirgon’s unwavering stare. Only that stare was not leveled at some fair maid but at Legolas! The King mentally recoiled at the thought. 

_By Elbereth, what is Sirgon thinking?_

In Rivendell, Lothlórien and the Grey Havens, where lords of Eldarin persuasion ruled, the ancient ways thrived. Elves’ preferences were of no consequence and some ultimately chose their own kind to mate with. Such passions were intrinsic to elven nature after all. Indeed, life-long relationships of Edhil of the same kind were sanctified in ritual bindings and were considered as true as unions between Elf-males and Elf-maids. 

But Mirkwood was a bastion of Silvan culture though its ruling family was of the Sindar. As such, Thranduil was of a more constrained bent of mind, as were his people. He did not doubt that there were pockets of those who had different passions from the rest of the population and he certainly did not forbid their choices. ‘But at least, they are discreet and do not flaunt their desires as this Elf does,’ the Elvenking thought indignantly. ‘And for my own son yet!’ 

His first impulse was to have Sirgon brought to him that he might question him. But then the king remembered that Sirgon’s father was leaving Mirkwood within the week. Beldoron had been so relieved that his son was among friends and would not be alone. 

Thranduil scowled. Suspicious he may be about Sirgon’s intentions but he had a great regard for Beldoron and did not want to distress his erstwhile counsellor. ‘I will speak with Legolas about this after Beldoron leaves,’ he decided. ‘Surely, nothing can possibly happen in such a short period of time.’ 

Could Thranduil have foreseen the events to come he might have changed his mind and bundled Sirgon off to the fastness of Lothlorien within the hour. Unfortunately, the foresight of the Firstborn is not always absolute and even then events have a way of overtaking one’s best efforts.

Three afternoons later, Sirgon found himself luxuriating in a rare stroll with Legolas. He had not had the chance to be alone with the prince since the twins’ arrival and he now made the most of it. They were in the woods behind the royal stables, following the long path that cut through the forest to one of the tributary streams of the Forest River.

They said little, content to just make their way among the ancient trees, enjoying the warm sun for here the forest was not so close. Sirgon could not help glancing frequently at his companion though, mesmerized as he was by his uncommon beauty. He did so surreptitiously so as not to attract the other’s notice. He was therefore taken aback when Legolas suddenly gazed at him with patent curiosity.

“You keep looking at me,” the archer commented. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Sirgon faltered. “I-that is to say—“ he stammered.

He was saved from making any further attempts at replying when they heard a great shout followed by the sounds of something crashing through the brush. Before either Elf could move, two figures burst from the thick greenery and collided with them. 

Stunned, Legolas found himself on his back with Elrohir atop him while, to his side, Sirgon was entangled with Elladan. The twins, in turn, stared at their unintentional victims with surprise. In the distance, the sound of furious neighing could be discerned.

“ _Geheno nin, Calenlassen!_ ” Elrohir gasped as he tried to extricate himself from his friend. Forgive me, my Greenleaf!

Sirgon felt a stab of intense jealousy upon hearing the twin’s use of such an affectionate, not to mention intimate endearment with the prince. He thrust Elladan off himself with startling vehemence. Quickly rising, he turned and grasped Elrohir by the arm. As the Elvenlord was already rising to his feet, it was with surprise that he felt Sirgon’s tight grip on his arm and even greater shock when the former forcefully yanked him off Legolas. His sharp, “Get off him!” was all that was needed to render everyone momentarily speechless with bafflement. 

Legolas wondered at his friend’s temper as the latter pulled him up. But before he could speak, Sirgon turned on Elrohir in fury. “You could have hurt him!” he snapped. “Ever have you and your brother cared only for your own pleasures without regard for others!”

“Hold, Sirgon!” Elrohir said angrily. "'Twas an accident. You have no right to speak to us so!”

“Oh no? What were you doing that you should stray from the path? Up to mischief again, no doubt!”

Elladan spoke up coldly. “Watch your manners, Elf. Common courtesy requires that you allow us to speak in our defense!” 

Sirgon swiftly turned to him, scathing words ready to issue from his lips. But Legolas quickly got between the two, pushing them away from each other. 

“Enough!” he exclaimed, bewildered by the sudden hostility. He turned to Sirgon with a frown. “Elrohir is right. ‘Twas an accident. No one was hurt, least of all myself. There is no need to be so upset.”

Sirgon mutinously pursed his lips. “You would take their part,” he responded hotly. “And why not? After all, I am just the son of a mere counsellor!”

He turned on his heel and walked rapidly away leaving the others to stare after him in bemusement. 

“What ails him?” Elrohir commented. “He even turned on you, Legolas, and that is not a thing I would have expected him to do.”

“I do not know,” Legolas answered. “He has been troubled of late but he has not confided his problem to me.” He looked at the twins. “What were you doing off the path?”

Elladan sighed. “We heard of the new stallion your father purchased and were told that it roams the woods at will. We tracked it to see for ourselves if ‘tis as magnificent as word has it.”

Elrohir took up the tale. “We found it near the stream and attempted to come as near to it as we could. ‘Twas then that we discovered why ‘tis still unbroken. I had not imagined that there were any horses that would not cooperate with an Elf!”

“In other words, it chased you here,” Legolas grinned. 

“We barely got out of its way as it is,” Elladan said. 

"'Tis hardly our fault that you and Sirgon got in ours!” Elrohir added. “I have never seen him so angry and for so petty a reason.”

Legolas nodded, his grin fading. “Yes, it is strange. I cannot fathom what is wrong.”

Elladan was about to say something when he suddenly stopped, an expression of surprised enlightenment on his face. 

“And what ails _you_ , brother?" Elrohir asked, noticing his twin’s reaction.

“I just realized what may be troubling Sirgon,” Elladan answered thoughtfully. “Legolas, I believe he is jealous!”

“Jealous?” Legolas stared at him. “Of whom?”

“Elrohir and me,” Elladan replied. “Have you not noticed of late how he regards us? I would wager that he wishes we would end our stay here and leave Mirkwood soonest.”

“But why?” Elrohir demanded. “What have we done to gain his rancor?”

“Not what we have done but what we have not done.” He glanced at Legolas. “We have not given him the chance to be with you as much as he would like, I think.”

Legolas was surprised but, after considering the matter, he nodded in agreement. “Aye, that is so. Since his return from Lothlórien, I have kept him close by my side to make him feel welcome. But your coming has altered that and I have scarcely been with him these past many weeks.”

Elrohir frowned. "'Tis not as if he will not have you to himself when we leave, Legolas. There is no need for him to be hostile.” He was still smarting at Sirgon’s rough handling.

Legolas clasped a soothing hand on the younger twin’s shoulder. “There is no need,” he agreed. “I will speak with him about the matter.” They heard once more a wild neighing, much closer than it had been before. Legolas chuckled. “Come, we had best head back before my father’s esteemed stallion decides to continue its game with you!” 

But it was not until a few days later that Legolas got his chance to talk to Sirgon. The following dawn found the prince with Elladan as they stalked the stallion, a beautiful chestnut beast. The animal had gone to the stream for a drink and this was where the two Elves found it. They crouched in the thick brush observing it with some apprehension. 

Neither noticed the dark figure in the trees watching them in turn. There was no need to be on guard in these parts for the woods behind Thranduil’s halls were well secured against evil from without. Sirgon silently observed the two, wondering what they planned to do, envious of Elladan’s proximity to Legolas and hurt that he had not been asked to join them.

For their part, the two Elves were wondering about the stallion’s surprising independence. It was rare for a horse to resist the beguilement of the Elves. For some reason, this one had. No one had ridden it yet, not even the king. And it had repeatedly tried to break out of the stables upon its arrival. Whereupon Thranduil had ordered it to be set loose so that it would not do injury to itself. It roamed the forest behind the palace, hemmed in only by enchantment and the vigilance of the Mirkwood guards. 

“I do not know why I let you talk me into this,” Legolas groused. 

“Because you could never turn down a chance at adventure, _ernil daur_?”—forest prince—Elladan whispered.

Legolas scowled at him. “If we end up in the house of healing again, my father will flay us alive.”

“I have heard that threat so many times I almost wish he would just carry it out and be done with it.”

“How is it that Elrohir had more sense than you today and refused to get out of bed?”

“Elrohir had a late night, if you must know. A very late night with one of his maidenly admirers.”

“Hush!”

The stallion was done with its drink and was headed their way. The two Elves tensed as it suddenly halted, whinnying softly as if it sensed something was not right. It began to toss its head, eyes darting around as if looking for something. 

“Move,” Legolas whispered urgently. “I do not like the look in its eyes.”

They silently crept away as quickly as possibly, Elladan somewhat ahead of Legolas. 

But just as it seemed that they would get away unscathed, the horse reared up, snorting angrily. With terrible suddenness, it plunged forward and broke into a gallop heading straight at Legolas. 

Legolas knew that he would never be able to outrun the stallion, not when it was bearing down on him so quickly. Scrambling to his feet, he turned to face it instead. 

“Legolas!” Elladan shouted in dismay. What was his friend doing? 

A short distance behind him, Sirgon had jumped to his feet, his heart pounding with fear. He began to plunge through the brush, wanting to protect Legolas but not quite knowing what he could do. 

At the last possible moment before the horse could run him down, the prince jumped to one side, grasped it by its mane and vaulted onto its back. Immediately, it began to buck. Legolas gritted his teeth and hung on for dear life.

Sirgon stared in astonishment. Even in his fear he had not failed to notice the startling grace of Legolas’ movements in mounting the horse. It filled him with awe, as did the prince’s strength and determination that kept him astride the animal when all others would have been thrown off. The feeling of wanting grew ever stronger within him. 

Just when Legolas thought he could hold on no longer, the horse stopped. Surprised, the prince looked down at the suddenly quiescent beast then glanced up at a stunned Elladan. Afraid he would be noticed, Sirgon quickly hid himself once more. 

Warily, Legolas dismounted, half expecting the animal to go wild once more and therefore readied himself for flight. But instead the stallion turned its head toward him and gently whinnied. Disbelievingly, Legolas reached out in wonder and stroked its noble face and neck. The horse nuzzled his hand with its nose.

Elladan stared at them in amazement. With understandable hesitation, he neared them. But the stallion did not flinch at his approach and simply contented itself with being stroked by the prince. 

“How did you do that?” Elladan asked in a hushed voice. He raised his hand to the animal and found that his touch was now tolerated.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Legolas admitted. 

“You could have been killed, you crazy Elf!” Elladan pointed out. “Why ever did you do it?”

“It was either ride or be trampled,” Legolas retorted. “I did not have much time to think, _gwador_.” He smiled at the animal. “Mayhap it wanted to choose its rider and not the other way around.”

Elladan glanced at him and smiled back. “Mayhap.” Or perhaps the beast had simply fallen under his friend’s spell.

oOoOoOo

Thranduil and his three other children stared in astonishment as they watched the stallion approach the royal halls, bearing Legolas and Elladan. And they were not the only ones. Many gathered to see for themselves that the king’s youngest son had indeed tamed the heretofore untamable beast.

Thranduil looked at his son with an expression that defied description. Knowing Legolas and coupling that knowledge with Elladan’s presence, he just knew the two had barely escaped disaster. Before Legolas could speak, he shook his head and simply announced, “Whatever you did, do not tell me! And, yes, since you tamed him, you may have him.”

Beside him, Brethildor and Nimeithel smiled in admiration at their brother but Melthoron pouted in envy. Legolas saw his oldest brother’s expression and barely managed to suppress a smirk. Elladan, however, had no such compunctions and blatantly snickered at the Crown Prince’s reaction as he and Legolas dismounted. That earned him a glare, which he blithely ignored as he grinned at the youngest Thranduilion. 

Sirgon watched the proceedings from behind the King. He’d hurried away after ascertaining that Legolas was safe. However, he had not expected them to ride the stallion back. He’d been taken unawares when they had returned astride the animal, Elladan behind Legolas. The Elf-warrior, not quite trusting the horse, had wrapped his arms rather tightly around the prince. That the older twin had done so out of precaution and nothing else did not soothe Sirgon’s ruffled feelings at all.

He felt misery well up within him and resentment toward Elrond’s older son. Unguarded, he did not realize that Legolas had seen him until he looked up and met the archer’s eyes. Flushing, he lowered his head but, by then, Legolas had seen his unhappiness. 

‘What troubles him?’ the prince wondered. Sirgon was not only miserable but looked quite capable of murdering Elladan. _I must speak with him soon._

*************************************  
Glossary:  
Thranduilion - son of Thranduil

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Beldoron departed for the Havens the following morning, leaving his son nearly inconsolable. Were it not for the kindly attentions of the royal children, his friends and the twins, his parting from his father might have been unbearable. As it was, even the normally haughty Melthoron found it in his heart to show some compassion for his brother’s friend. And the twins apparently put Sirgon’s display of pique behind them and rallied behind him in his time of bereavement. 

It was evening when all but Legolas left the Elf’s dwelling. The archer remained behind, certain his friend still needed company. They sat companionably in the small, enclosed garden behind the house, drinking Dorwinion wine that Legolas had thought to bring with him from his father’s cellar. After a while, Legolas reached over and stopped Sirgon from filling his cup once more.

“You are drinking too much, _mellonen_ ”—my friend—Legolas reproved mildly.

Sirgon flushed. He could not deny that he had imbibed a little more than he was used to though he was not yet inebriated either. However, he did feel somewhat light-headed. He glanced at Legolas and realized the prince was studying him with some concern. Too beautiful for his own good, he thought of a sudden. He set bottle and cup down with trembling fingers. The motion was not missed by the other. 

“Are you all right?” Legolas inquired. “You seem overwrought about something other than your father’s departure.”

Sirgon shook his head. "'Tis nothing. I am well.”

“Are you?” The prince moved closer to him, his eyes limned with worry. “You are keeping something to yourself, Sirgon. I have noticed your behavior of late.”

“I do not know what you mean,” Sirgon replied, apprehension beginning to flare up within him. 

Legolas pursed his lips, considering his next words. “The twins think you are jealous of them,” he stated evenly. “Are they right?”

Sirgon gaped at the archer in shock. Again the Rivendell lords had proven all too perceptive. “I-I—“ he stuttered.

Legolas raised a golden eyebrow. “So, they are right,” he murmured. He sighed. “I am sorry, I did not realize how left out you must have felt these past weeks.”

Sirgon swallowed hard. His thoughts and feelings were in a tumult. The prince had touched on the matter but had not perceived its core. He did not yet understand the true reason for Sirgon’s jealousy. 

Ordinarily, Sirgon would have prudently held his tongue. But the wine seemed to have done its fair share in loosening it for he suddenly asked, “Just how close are you to the twins?”

Legolas was surprised. “They are my best friends, my sworn brothers,” he replied. 

“Nay, I mean, are they more than that to you?” Sirgon pressed on a little incautiously.

“More?” The archer frowned in puzzlement. “What do you mean by that?”

Unable to keep his turbulent thoughts bottled any longer, Sirgon blurted out, “Have you been intimate with either of them?”

Legolas stared at him, his jaw dropping open. For a moment, he was speechless at the totally unexpected query. “Intimate as in have I bedded either of them?” he finally managed to say.

Sirgon reddened with shame at the other’s reaction but nodded nevertheless. He was beyond prudence now. 

Legolas let out his breath. “I have never bedded a male Elf, much less either of the twins.” He cocked a curious eye at his companion. “I know that in Imladris, the practice is more common. I would not be surprised if either Elladan or Elrohir have experienced such loving. But Mirkwood is different. I have not even thought of it at all.”

“Yet there are many who desire you who are not maidens,” Sirgon pointed out.

Legolas sat back, folding his arms. “So I am told,” he responded. “I would not forbid them but neither would I encourage or respond to their overtures. But in truth, none have ever dared approach me thus and I doubt that any will have the courage to do so.”

“But would you ever consider intimacy with an _ellon_?”—male Elf.

Legolas snorted a little amusedly. “I might, given the right incentive. I am not averse to experimentation so long as ‘tis not forced upon me. Why in Elbereth’s name are you asking these questions?” 

Sirgon sucked his breath in sharply. Now that it had come down to it, he did not know how to broach the truth. He stared at Legolas, desperately wondering how to explain to his friend how he felt. Something of his feelings must have made itself visible in his eyes for the prince suddenly looked back at him with a slight frown.

“Sirgon?” the archer said warily. “What have you been concealing from me?” 

Sirgon hesitated, his whole body trembling. It was now or never. There might not be another opportunity for him to reveal his feelings to Legolas. Certainly not another chance that he would be brave enough even if the courage had come from too many cups of Dorwinion wine. But unable to put his feeling into coherent words for his tongue suddenly felt thick in his mouth, he decided to express them in action instead.

He leaned forward and kissed Legolas nervously on the lips. The prince started then jerked back in shock. He stared at Sirgon incredulously. “No, you can’t...“ he whispered in disbelief.

“But I do, Legolas,” Sirgon half-groaned. “I couldn’t – can’t help myself. I love you, _ernilen_.”—my prince.

Legolas shuddered at the naked emotion in Sirgon’s voice. It was not that he looked askance on those that loved their own kind. He was of the opinion that everyone was entitled to their own passions so long as no harm came of them and none was compelled against one’s wishes into answering those needs. For his part, he simply fended off any advances not to his liking without bearing any ill will towards the initiator. Though as he’d earlier stated, he’d never encountered advances from other male Elves and therefore had virtually no experience in that area.

But now it had happened and with a friend at that. He did not know how to respond to the situation. The ingrained conviction not to hurt someone he cared for warred with the panicked instinct to remove himself from a most uncomfortable situation as soon as possible.

Sirgon misread his hesitation though. Hope, however faint, grew in his heart and he cupped Legolas’s face to kiss him once more. 

Panic won out over conviction and Legolas reared out of his grasp. The prince rose hastily to his feet, panting a little shakily, eyes wide with warning. “ _Avo_ , Sirgon!”—Don’t—he gasped. “I would not have our friendship ruined.”

“I am sorry,” Sirgon all but sobbed. “But I cannot stop how I feel! Believe me, I have tried so hard but the feeling remains.”

Legolas drew a deep breath, tried to calm his suddenly erratically beating heart. “I-I do not take this against you,” he finally said. “But I do not know how to cope with this. Indeed, I do not even know how I should feel.”

Sirgon swallowed hard. “In Lothlórien, such things need no explaining,” he mumbled. 

“But this is not Lothlórien,” Legolas pointed out. “I am not used to this. I need time to think.”

“Think about what?” Sirgon pressed on a little desperately. “Would you consider it then?”

Legolas shook his head. “Nay, that I cannot do. ‘Tis not my inclination.”

“But you said that given the right incentive, you might try it.” When the prince shook his head again, Sirgon said bitterly, “I wager if I were one of the twins you would consider that incentive enough!”

Legolas was taken aback by the other’s assertion. After a momentary pause, he sighed. “I cannot tell if you are right or wrong in that assumption for I do not know what I would consider the ‘right’ incentive. Suffice to say I cannot do this for you. I cannot love you as more than a friend.” 

“Then I am lost,” Sirgon choked. “For I cannot purge myself of this love I hold for you.”

Legolas blew his breath out. “Mayhap we should keep apart for a while,” he quietly suggested. “I may have done you harm by keeping you by my side, encouraging your affections for me.”

Sirgon looked away. “As you wish, _hir nîn_.”—my lord.

Legolas started to reach out a consoling hand to the other Elf’s shoulder then thought better of it. With a sorrowful glance at the disconsolate Elf, he departed.

oOoOoOo

"What will I do?” Legolas almost wailed as he paced the floor of Elladan’s chamber restlessly.

He had immediately gone in search of the brethren after leaving Sirgon’s home and, having found them, dragged them to the closest bedchamber, which happened to belong to the older twin. Hardly giving them time to settle down, he had launched into a detailed narrative regarding the upsetting incident with the other Elf. 

The twins watched him walk to and fro, heads turning as he did. Finally Elrohir said, “Legolas, please sit down. You are making us dizzy!”

The prince abruptly plopped down in the armchair opposite the couch the twins were sitting in. He looked from one brother to the other. They were sprawled on the couch watching him in turn. 

“Well? Are you not going to help me?” Legolas demanded.

The brothers glanced at each other. Elladan leaned forward and spread his hands questioningly.

“Exactly what help do you need of us?” he asked. “You do not return his passion. There is nothing anyone can do about that.” 

Legolas rolled his eyes. "'Tis not what I mean!” he exclaimed. “How do I deal with his attraction to me in the first place?” He clenched his hands on his lap. “He-he spoke as if it were the most normal thing in Arda to love me!”

Elrohir stole a look at his brother. “Well, it is,” he said. 

Legolas stared at him stupefied. “What?” 

“There is nothing unnatural about what he feels for you,” the younger twin elucidated. “What is tragic is that you do not have the same passion for him and, being his friend, will now feel uncomfortable in his company, knowing what you do about his feelings.”

The prince shook his head, clearly taken aback. “You speak as if it were normal for Elves to... to be capable of such feelings,” he said. 

“Because it is,” Elladan put it. “Why are you so shocked? You have seen it with your own eyes in Imladris.”

“But I thought ‘twas but a limited occurrence,” Legolas replied. ”You make it seem as if the mating of two Elves of the same kind is as natural as that of Elf-male and Elf-maiden.”

"'Tis our Noldorin ancestry, I fear,” Elladan smiled. “We have held to the ancient path as your people did not.”

“That term...” Legolas stared at them. “I remember now. You used it once long ago but Lord Elrond interrupted before you could explain further.”

“Neither he nor your father felt you were ready for such a revelation at the time,” Elladan admitted. 

Legolas looked patently displeased. “Well, please explain now,” he pleaded. “What is the ancient path? What does it entail?”

Elladan nodded and continued. “Those who follow it consider such relationships valid so long as they are not the result of coercion or force. Think, Legolas, in Elvenhome, the Eldar have flourished for uncounted ages. There is no fear of the _Edhil_ dying out, no obligation to constantly perpetuate our immortal race. With that freedom, the need to take a mate for the sake of conception and birth is not paramount. In Aman, one may take a spouse, bind with one’s own kind or take no mate at all if that is one’s desire.”

“The old ways made no distinctions between one choice or the other,” Elrohir took up the tale. “Only rape, incest, infidelity between living lifemates and the taking of children are considered unholy and, therefore, forbidden. But as for same-kind lifemates... well, our kin did not abandon the ancient path when they returned to Middle-earth as yours understandably did.”

“Understandably?”

“Your history shows that the Silvan Elves and some of the Sindar first began to discourage the binding of male and male spirit and likewise female and female after the High Kindred departed for Aman,” Elrohir explained, resorting to a scholarly manner to lessen Legolas’s discomfort. “In the need to survive and flourish amidst the vagaries of life in Middle-earth, your forebears became less obliging about practices that would inhibit rather than promote the births of future generations of Elves. And when evil came to these shores, it became even more imperative that the ancient practice be limited though ‘twas still deemed acceptable if that was truly what was desired. What was unexpected was the move by your grandfather, Oropher, to actively proscribe such passions amongst the Sindar he ruled and then in Greenwood. It eventually came to be considered aberrant amongst the younger generations of Elves in your kingdom.” 

“And with the passing of many of the older Elves either by attrition or the choice to sail West, so did much of the memories and knowledge of the past vanish as well,” Elladan pointed out. 

“But Lórien?” Legolas questioned. “Some of our kindred removed there long ago. Yet you have said ‘tis no matter in the Golden Wood.”

“That had much to do with our grandparents,” Elrohir smiled. “Under their rule, any lingering objections to the old traditions simply faded away. ‘Tis only here in Mirkwood that the prohibition remains, Legolas.” 

“We do not have your _gwaith_ ’s unease with those who love their own kind,” Elladan concluded. “We have witnessed such bindings and see nothing out of the ordinary about them. But after all ‘tis the joining of two spirits that matters regardless of the bodies that house them. If we think ill of Sirgon’s desire ‘tis because it has laid a great burden upon you, _gwador_.” 

Legolas sat back feeling more confused than ever. “Strange that we never talked at length about such matters before,” he remarked. “I have since discovered that it does occur in Mirkwood, though very discreetly. And, as you pointed out, I have certainly seen evidence of it in Imladris. But I never thought to discuss it with you in full.”

“Why should you?” Elrohir pointed out. “As long as it did not directly affect you, it was something you had no cause to even think about.”

“But now it _has_ directly affected me and I do not know what to do.” Legolas sighed. He glanced at the twins and, on the heels of sudden curiosity, almost shyly asked: “Have either of you...?” His cheeks stained a faint hue of red.

Two elegant pairs of sable eyebrows rose in amusement at his hesitation. “Since when have you been so timid to ask us about such things?” Elladan grinned.

Legolas scowled. “Since now that I am entangled in something I know nothing about save for hearsay and an occasional glimpse!” he retorted, his cheeks burning fiercely.

The twins chuckled sympathetically.

“If you must know, aye, we have,” Elrohir replied. “We would never turn down the opportunity to try something pleasurable.”

“So long as ‘tis not forbidden,” Elladan added.

Legolas stared at his friends. It was difficult to imagine either twin in the company of a male lover. He knew them so well, their carnal appetites included. He wondered if they enjoyed such liaisons.

“Aye, we do,” Elladan snickered, easily reading the question in the prince’s eyes. Legolas closed them in embarrassment. 

“Why so uncomfortable, _gwador_?” Elrohir inquired. “We have talked about much more intimate matters before.”

Legolas eyes snapped open. He let out his breath in frustration. “'Tis only because this... subject is so... so...“

“Beyond your body of experience and knowledge,” Elladan finished for him with a comforting smile. 

Legolas nodded. He regarded the twins with mingled wonder and renewed curiosity. “How can you enjoy it?” he blurted out. “You have always desired female-kind and regardless of race it would seem.”

The brethren looked at him in surprise then sighed in tandem as the full extent of their friend’s unawareness of the ancient ways became starkly apparent. 

“Calenlass, ‘tis not something acquired but is part of _all Edhil_ from birth,” Elrohir explained. “Since the awakening of the Firstborn by the shores of Cuivienen, the choice of a mate was never based on gender but on mutual attraction between two Elves, regardless of kind. All Elves are capable of loving both ways. ‘Tis our nature.”

“Indeed, you might say that all Elves are capable of losing their innocence twice should they desire it,” Elladan added with a faint smile. “For the loving of a female is vastly different from a male’s. To this we can attest.”

Legolas stared at them in shock. “But I have not... I don’t...“ He found himself stuttering and visibly took hold of himself. “If that is so, then why have I never felt attracted to another male?” he demanded.

“Because of the culture in which you were raised,” Elladan pointed out. “You were taught that ‘tis not desirable, therefore, you never entertained the idea. I dare say that you _have_ been attracted to other _ellyn_ but you dismissed such feelings as admiration or hero worship at most.“

Legolas was dumbstruck as the truth of Elladan’s words hit home. “‘Tis true, I have known such feelings,” he acknowledged grudgingly. “But nothing more. Indeed, I have never even thought about it.” 

“We are all products of our upbringing,” Elrohir elaborated. “If you consider something unnatural, you can hardly be expected to give it any thought. Your father and his generation lived through that time when the ban was declared and know of the ancient path. But Elves as young as you would not. And you can hardly expect the elders to suddenly change their course and tell you about it. That said, we think your father’s tolerance of such practices within Mirkwood admirable.”

Legolas shrugged. “Well, ‘tis not as if it is their fault for feeling the way they do,” he commented. He blinked as the meaning of his words registered on him.

“Exactly,” Elladan said gently. “They cannot resist where their love leads them.”

Legolas sat back with a deep exhale. “Forgive me, but I find this rather overwhelming,” he admitted. “‘Tis difficult to believe that what you say about our nature is true.”

“Yet we are very much alike to the Powers themselves and they, too, possess this duality,” Elladan said.

“The Valar?!” Legolas was aghast. “But who—?”

“Tulkas the Valiant who is wed to fleetfooted Nessa, sister of Oromë. Yet he has great love for Fionwë, the son of Manwë and Elbereth.” (0)

“How do you know this?” the archer demanded incredulously.

“Three unimpeachable sources told us,” Elrohir grinned. “Our grandmother, Galadriel, Gildor Inglorion, and our own Glorfindel. They saw this with their own eyes when they lived in the Blessed Realm.”

Smirking at their friend’s awed expression, Elladan said, “So you see, ‘tis no jape we play on you.”

The prince sighed. “Be that as it may, I cannot do anything for Sirgon. I am not attracted to him in _that_ way. Indeed, I can never be attracted to any male even should the Valar themselves send one to tempt me!”

The twins half-gasped, half-chortled at his near-blasphemy. 

“You would oppose the Valar’s will? Beware, Legolas,“ Elrohir warned. “'Tis perilous to speak thusly. The Powers may very well lead you down the path just to punish you for gainsaying them!”

Legolas stared at the twins with such horror that the brothers burst out laughing. After a few mirthful moments, Elladan managed to catch his breath.

“Ah, if you could just see your face,” he chuckled. “But, in truth, there is nothing to be afraid of. Given your upbringing and the prejudice against such passions in Mirkwood, ‘tis most unlikely that you will suddenly develop a taste for male-flesh. I dare say it would probably take an Elf chosen by fate itself to arouse that part of you that slumbers. And even if he exists, ‘tis highly improbable that your paths would cross so providentially.” He smiled wickedly as Legolas began to relax in relief. “However, if he were to appear and beckon to you, I fear you will _not_ be able to resist his allure for that is also part of our nature!”

His cheeks flaming anew, Legolas glowered at him with such murderous intensity, the twins promptly dissolved into another bout of hilarity. 

**************************************  
Glossary:  
Edhil - Elves  
gwaith – a people or ethnic group  
ellyn – male Elves

(0) Paraphrased from _The Lost Road and Other Writings_ , Chapter VI: Quenta Silmarillion – (1) Of the Valar

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

Sirgon watched as Legolas and the twins came out of the delved halls to join the hunting party gathered outside. But then the prince’s eyes fell upon him and he suddenly frowned and halted in his tracks. A moment later, he was in retreat, attempting to draw the brethren along with him. But the two held back and were seen to discuss something with him. Sirgon flushed painfully. He did not know what Elladan and Elrohir were saying to Legolas but he knew full well why the archer had sought to turn back. 

It was now a full week since their ill-starred encounter. In all that time, Legolas had assiduously avoided him. Sirgon could not blame him. What he had done, what he had confessed, had placed a barrier between them. 

A murmur of surprise startled him out of his musings and he glanced up to see the brethren part with the prince and continue on their way to join the hunters. That was highly unusual. When visiting the Woodland Realm, neither Elladan nor Elrohir ever took part in patrols or hunts without Legolas. While one or the other of the twins might forego the prince’s company on occasion, for both to do so was very rare. Most of the time, the three of them were virtually inseparable. 

The party set off. The stock of meats in the palace larder was running low and they were tasked to bring home enough game for the next five days or so. Part of the bounty would be cured or dried for future use. The rest would be cooked while still fresh, which meant there would be some feasting upon the hunters’ return.

A day’s passage proved gratifying for the party. By nightfall, they had brought down two stags, one wild boar and a variety of smaller game such as rabbit, pheasant and quail. In the morning, they moved on in search of more prey, leaving a few Elves to guard and prepare the cache for transport back to the palace. 

Sirgon noted the twins’ continued dislike of Mirkwood’s darkness. He could only imagine how different the closeness of the forest was from Rivendell. He wondered what Legolas’ demeanor must be like when visiting the hidden vale. He lost himself in his thoughts while he walked. But as the images he conjured skimmed through his mind, the impossibility of his situation came home to him anew and he bit his lip as fresh pain washed over him.

“Can you not put him out of your mind, _mellonen_?”—my friend.

He started visibly at the sound of Elladan’s voice, so deep had he been in his thoughts that he’d failed to note the twin’s approach.

“I – you – you know—” he stuttered.

Elladan nodded. “Would you care to talk about it?" he offered kindly. “It might give you ease.”

Sirgon stared at the Imladrin prince, unsure and a little suspicious. But he saw nothing but compassion and understanding in Elladan’s eyes. He dropped his stare, shamed that he should have imputed anything base in the other’s motives for seeking him out.

“I have not... not spoken of this to anyone,” he admitted. 

“Not even Heledir and Mithrael?”

“They would not understand. Heledir would be horrified and Mithrael... he knows of such things but he does not accept them either.”

“You feel alone in this.”

“Aye. And even more so now that Legolas has withdrawn from me.” He drew in a shuddery breath. “I should not have told him. ‘Twas foolish of me.”

Elladan shook his head. “I wish I could tell you otherwise but, aye, it would have been better had you kept your peace. At least, until such time when these passions are accepted here once more.” 

Sirgon glanced at him curiously. “Think you they will be?”

“What is true to our nature cannot be suppressed forever. Sooner or late, your people will find their way back to the path, will they, nill they. But there is no telling when that will happen.” He regarded the forlorn Elf gravely. “You could have waited for a more opportune time. Prudence is of the essence when dealing with delicate matters.”

“I realize that now,” Sirgon admitted dolefully. “But after so many years, I’d forgotten that the ways of Mirkwood differed from the ways of Lórien. I came to think them akin since they are both realms of Wood-elves.”

Elladan shook his head. “You forget that this kingdom was never under the influence of the Noldor. Indeed, Lord Thranduil and his father before him never trusted those who came back to Middle-earth from Aman. Even Celeborn, their own kinsman, could not persuade them otherwise. ‘Tis only in this age that friendship has been forged between the Woodland Realm and Imladris.”

“But I do not understand why Mirkwood’s culture in this matter can have diverged so much from that of Imladris, Lórien or Mithlond.”

“Did I not just point out that Mirkwood was never under a Noldorin lord? The High Kindred brought their culture back with them to Middle-earth in the First Age and, in realms where they held sway, it took hold and grew deep roots.”

“But not in Greenwood.”

Elladan shrugged. “Your people have had little to do with the Eldar for the most part. And the King’s father, Oropher, hated the Noldor with a vengeance. You cannot expect him to have allowed what he called ‘Golodh corruption’ to taint his people in any way. ‘Tis nothing short of a miracle that his son decided to establish links with Imladris.”

“But the Lórien Elves are also of Silvan stock yet they follow the ancient path.”

Elladan said, “Lothlorien’s lord may be a Sinda but he is wed to a Noldorin lady whom he not only worships but takes much counsel from. The rulers of a realm can greatly influence its culture.”

Sirgon considered the older twin’s words then sighed with resignation. “Not that any of it matters. Even were he inclined towards his own kind, Legolas does not return my feelings. He is fated for someone else, I see that now.” 

“I sympathize with you, Sirgon,” Elladan said. “I know how hard it is to love and not have it returned. But it is also hard to turn away one whom you know cares for you and inflict pain upon a loving heart. I have done so myself many a time and it never gets easier.”

Sirgon considered the twin’s words. Something told him that Elladan was not only referring to his many love affairs but particularly to experiences alike to his own 

“Have you... have you ever bedded a male Elf, _hîr nîn_?”—my lord—he asked shyly.

Elladan shrugged. “Several. I first lay with another _ellon_ because ‘twas supposed to be enjoyable.”

“And did you?” Sirgon asked cautiously. “Enjoy it, I mean.”

“Oh, immensely,” Elladan grinned. “‘Twas most pleasurable, in fact. I suppose I was fortunate that my first lovers were greatly skilled; one of them even persuaded me to yield to him. That was a feat I must say for ‘tis not my nature to submit to any,” he chuckled in fond reminiscence. He looked at the other Elf and noted how scarlet he had become. “You know of what I speak. I take it you have some experience in this?”

“In Lórien,” Sirgon admitted. “'Twas there that I realized where my preferences lay.” Still flushed, he asked: “Are you and Lord Elrohir alike in such... matters?” 

The Elf-lord glanced in the direction of his brother and smiled fondly. “My twin is as inclined toward pleasurable experiences as I am but he is even more proud. To my knowledge, he has never allowed any to take him. Mayhap if we loved any of our partners we would be more willing to play the sheath to the sword.” 

Sirgon blushed anew at the Elf-lord’s frankness. Elladan smiled understandingly. “Do not mind me, I have always been brutally honest about such matters.” He tilted his head curiously at his companion. “What you said earlier? Have you no liking for females at all?”

Sirgon shook his head. “None,” he admitted. “I thought myself strange until I saw that ‘twas regarded as natural in Lórien. Now that I look back, I realize ‘twas the one thing that made me happy there. That I could be free in this. Yet I yearned for Greenwood, remembering my childhood.”

“Even if you knew you would not be as free?”

“I did not think of that. I only wished to see my old friends again. To know the joy I’d shared with them as we grew up together.” 

“You could not foresee that you would turn your eyes to one of them in a much different manner,” Elladan said gently.

Sirgon swallowed painfully. “He has changed since the days of our childhoods. I could not help myself.”

Elladan sighed. “Legolas does not wish for your friendship to end. But he is uncomfortable now that he is aware of how you feel about him.”

“I know,” Sirgon said in a low sad voice. “If I could take back my words and actions I would. Better to have suffered in silence than to endure his rejection.”

Elladan laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I have no ready solution to give you. But I am willing to listen if you need a sympathetic ear, as is Elrohir. He, too, would offer you comfort if you would but ask it of him.”

Sirgon smiled wanly. “I have wronged both of you,” he said. “I hope you will forgive me.”

“’There is no need for apologies. ‘Tis natural to feel jealous of those who you think hold your beloved’s heart.”

"'Twas not only that which I envied,” Sirgon admitted. “I was also jealous of your closeness to him. ‘Tis closer than any he has with the friends he grew up with. I did not realize how much you and he had shared while I was away.”

Elladan was about to reply when he suddenly felt the hair on his nape rising. His eyes glittered and he spun on his heel. “ _Yrch!_ ”—Orcs—he hissed, alerting the others. 

In scant seconds, the Elves coalesced into a cohesive fighting unit, bows ready and swords drawn. Elrohir was by his twin’s side in a flash. They vanished into the foliage to await their foes.

The minutes passed. The sound of heavy treads echoed through the dense growth. Suddenly a horde of foul creatures brandishing black blades crashed through the trees. 

The Elves launched their ambush without further ado.

oOoOoOo

Word of the battle reached the Woodland Realm a day before the hunters returned. The orcs had been vanquished, their remains dragged into a clearing and burned to rid the forest of their stench. But there had been a price to the victory. While there were no casualties, many of the hunters had been wounded. And at least one, gravely so.

Elladan and Elrohir themselves helped bear Sirgon’s litter back to the royal halls. The Elf had suffered a knife wound to his abdomen. It was deep and wide but it should not have been fatal given his elven stamina and strength. Except that the knife had been poisoned and Sirgon had not mentioned to either twin when they ministered to him that the wound burned with uncommon intensity. By the time they discovered the severity of his condition, the toxin had spread and caused much internal damage and Sirgon had fallen victim to systemic failure.

They’d returned with him as swiftly as possible to get him into the hands of Thranduil’s healers. Though they were not sanguine about his chances of survival, they still held to the hope that the healers with their formidable skills and complete stock of medicaments might still pull him through.

Legolas met them as they approached the great cave. He blanched upon seeing the state of their cargo. Wordlessly, he led them to the healing rooms and helped transfer Sirgon to a bed in one of the chambers. Then they all waited outside for the healers’ verdict.

It was grim. The poison, a most potent one, had already infiltrated nearly every organ in the immediate vicinity of the wound. There was nothing they could do. Sirgon was dying. He would not last through the night.

They looked in on him but he did not know it. The healers had given him a sleeping draught to ease the pain. They departed for their own chambers with heavy hearts.

oOoOoOo

Legolas slipped back into Sirgon’s chamber near midnight, sending the healer on duty away. He had not been able to sleep. The thought of his dying friend had nagged at him insistently. In this moment, he forgot about Sirgon’s forbidden love for him and only recalled that the Elf was his friend, one who had shared the years of his childhood with him.

He sat by him, fearfully wondering how near to death he was or if he was even still alive. His face was pallid, his lips closer to blue than the color of flesh and his breathing so indiscernible that, to a non-healer, it seemed he drew no breath at all. Legolas held the other’s hand and stroked it gently. The fingers quivered against his palm. Heartened, he leaned over and sought for signs of consciousness in his friend.

“Sirgon?”

The lids fluttered open. For a moment, Sirgon dimly stared at him. 

“Legolas...”

“How do you feel?” the prince softly asked.

“Do the... dead feel... anything?”

“Hush, do not say such things.”

Sirgon swallowed painfully. “Will you... forgive... me?”

“For what? For loving me?” Legolas sighed. “‘Tis I who should apologize. I forsook you when you needed me most.”

Sirgon weakly shook his head. “Cannot... blame you.” He tried to smile. “Am glad... you came. See you... one last... time.”

Legolas felt his throat tighten. He could not refute Sirgon’s words. This was indeed the last time they would see each other. By morning, the other Elf would be within the Halls of Awaiting.

He suddenly realized Sirgon was looking at him with profound emotion. There was no longer any reason to hide what he felt. Legolas winced as he espied grief mingled with love in the depths of his friend’s fading eyes. How to ease his passing? Dampen his sorrow? Legolas did not want him to leave this life bearing the anguish of cruel rejection.

Gathering his courage, he bent and pressed a kiss to Sirgon’s chilled lips. It was the most hesitant of caresses, more chaste than chaste in its lightness. But Sirgon, with a surge of strength, claimed it hungrily. Legolas was shocked but managed to control himself. He stifled the impulse to recoil, clamped down hard on the repugnance that rose within him. Now was not the time to let Sirgon feel rejected anew.

He allowed Sirgon to touch him, let him draw his faltering hands down his arms and torso. So focused was he on stilling his instinct to shrink from the caresses that he did not notice the two figures that paused at the entrance to the chamber.

The twins gazed in astonishment. An instant later, they understood what Legolas was trying to do. Elladan felt a mixture of sadness and relief. At least, Sirgon would not go into the dark without some comfort, he told himself. He glanced at Elrohir then started and stared at his brother.

Elrohir had the most peculiar expression on his face. Elladan did not know what to make of it. The younger twin had paled and there was an alarming glitter in his eyes. Anger? Dismay? Yes, but at what? He looked back at Legolas. The prince had moved to support Sirgon as the latter buried his face in the crook of his neck. Then Sirgon sought his lips once more and Legolas acquiesced. Elladan looked back at Elrohir. Was his brother angry with them? Elrohir suddenly drew in a sharp breath and shivered. Nay, Elladan realized, he is angry with and dismayed at himself. But why?

He was about to ask what was wrong when Elrohir glanced down the dimly lit corridor then took his arm and whispered, “Let us go. The king is approaching.”

“What of it?”

The younger twin simply shook his head and insistently drew him into a dark recess along the hallway. After a few minutes, Thranduil reached the chamber door. The king made to enter only to stop at the threshold and stare at what was occurring inside. He was seen to stiffen but he held his peace. He remained where he was, continuing to watch his youngest son.

Elladan comprehended the wisdom of his brother’s actions. Thranduil was patently uncomfortable with what Legolas had chosen to do to console Sirgon in his last moments. Not that he would stop his son; the king was no unfeeling tyrant. But he would not be pleased to know others had seen the same thing. It was best to spare him further discomfort. 

After what seemed like eternity, Legolas came out of the chamber. He stopped when he saw his father standing there. A question passed silently between them and the prince nodded sadly. Thranduil held his arms out and Legolas slipped into them, letting his father’s comforting warmth ease his sorrow. The king led him away.

The twins emerged from their concealment. A peek into Sirgon’s chamber revealed a still, unbreathing figure upon the bed. With regretful sighs, the brethren departed as well.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

The Elvenking approached his youngest son as he stood by Sirgon’s grave, the brethren, Elladan and Elrohir, on either side of him. The Woodland Realm's graveyard lay to the north, a fair distance away from the royal halls. It was a quiet, relatively open space where the trees were not so dense. This morning, sunlight managed to penetrate the leafy canopy overhead, dappling the grassy mounds below with golden light. 

As soon as the twins espied him, they moved a slight distance away, intuitively knowing that Thranduil desired a moment alone with Legolas. 

The king stared down somberly at the freshly filled grave. After a while, he looked at his son, his eyes somewhat anxious. Legolas returned his gaze and waited patiently for what he might have to say.

“‘Tis not the best time to bring this up,” Thranduil said at last. “But my heart is uneasy and I cannot put this off.” 

“What is it, _Ada_?” 

“I saw you... saw what you did in Sirgon’s last moments. I cannot deny that it made me uncomfortable. Legolas, did you...?” The king was forced to take a calming breath. “Why, my son? I knew of Sirgon’s feelings for you but I did not think that you...”

“ _Ada._ ” Legolas placed a reassuring hand on his father’s arm. “I did it to ease his passing. I hurt him deeply not least because I thought his passion for me abhorrent. Had I known the truth of our nature, I would have been kinder and he might not have suffered as much as he did.” 

“You have learned about the ancient path.”

“The _gwenyn_ ”—twins—“apprised me of it.”

“And...?”

“You are worried that I am tempted to follow it because of what I did with Sirgon. But I assure you ‘tis not the case.” Legolas glanced at the twins, recalling their discussion. “Elladan mentioned that I could probably be made to tread it only if I met an _ellon_ chosen by fate itself. Sirgon was not that _ellon_. I felt only pity and the pull of our old friendship, no more.”

Thranduil heaved a sigh of obvious relief. “That is reassuring. I confess, though I know of the old ways, I am no longer at ease with them. Not after all these millennia.”

“Then we are in accord, _Ada_. I am not at ease with them either.”

The Elvenking finally relaxed. With a nod at the brethren and a last look at the grave, he strode away. The twins silently came back to Legolas’ side. Elladan considered the prince thoughtfully.

“Forgive us but we could not help overhearing your conversation,” he said. “You withheld something from your father, Legolas. What is it that still troubles you?”

Legolas hesitated then said: “Nay, I am not troubled but confused. What you told me about our nature... Why is it then that I could not respond to Sirgon’s touch? If I carry the duality within me, why was I uncomfortable with his caresses? I had to stop myself from recoiling even unto his dying breath.”

Elladan shook his head. “The duality of elven nature is a capability, not a compulsion,” he explained. “Some Elves feel only the pull of their own kind, others only that of the opposite gender. And still more know both passions and must eventually choose one or the other if they wish to espouse themselves. Our own Daurin must one day decide whom he will bind to – Enedrion or Almáriel. And Elrohir and I will have to make that choice as well having known the loving of male and female-kind. Is that not so, brother?”

Elrohir seemed to shake himself out of some deep contemplation for he blinked then looked at Elladan somewhat blankly.

“I am sorry. What did you say?”

Elladan peered at him curiously. “I was telling Legolas that our duality does not force us to accept both sides of our natures,” he said.

“Aye, that is true,” Elrohir agreed. “‘Tis still our conscious will that dictates our choices though our hearts often guide us as well.”

Legolas frowned then looked at Elladan. “But you said were I to meet the 'right' _ellon_ , I would not be able to resist his pull,” he reminded the older twin.

“And that scares you,” Elladan remarked. “Legolas, you have been drawn to certain Elf-maids for no discernible reason and found it next to impossible not to desire them. Yet that does not mean you bedded them all nor did you love any one of them. Physical desire is simply that. You may act on it or not and, even when you do, it does not automatically lead to love itself. Admittedly, it can be agony to deny what one’s body demands but it can be done. You still have a choice.”

Legolas pondered Elladan’s words then nodded. “I confess, your words alarmed me more than I cared to admit. I cannot... The thought of – of coupling with another male...” He shivered. “‘Tis a strange and frightening notion to me. I wish it were not so. It shames me that I fear what is native to our kindred. It shames me that I could not help Sirgon in his need.” 

“Do not be shamed by this, Calenlass,” Elrohir quietly said. “Your people abandoned the ancient path long ago. You knew nothing of it, much less experienced what it entails. No one can simply forget a lifetime’s worth of traditions and beliefs. Not even you, Prince of Mirkwood.”

Legolas had to smile. Elrohir had the most uncommon gift of oft knowing what to say to alleviate his fears or uncertainties.

“Thank you, _meldiren_ ”—my friend—he said. He glanced down at Sirgon’s grave once more, his heart still heavy with grief but no longer so burdened by guilt.

“May you find your peace, Sirgon,” he softly intoned.

Flanked by Elladan and Elrohir, he turned away and walked back to his father’s halls. 

_End of Part VII._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Part VIII: Prelude: Into Temptation - The thin line between friendship and desire isn't all that easy to cross._


End file.
